Young Writers Society

The world goes quiet before a storm approaches. It also happens when the world is about to gain a knowledge that will redefine life. As the footsteps get closer, the chatter in the room dies down. The small huddle of people around the hearth watch the entrance to the room, waiting for the tall figure to appear. Everyone seems to take a deep breath when they see him- the young man they have come to respect.

As soon as he enters, his eyes nervously dart around searching for me. I step out of the shadows to let him know. People throw him welcoming smiles, acknowledging his presence. Having eyes only for me, his icy hands reach for mine and hold it like an anchor. Finally, he turns towards the group, faces of all mature ages look up at him. It is impossible really, that a man who could intimidate a crowd so would be terrified of people.

When we first met, I saw him limping and dragging himself across the street, a bundle held in his hands. He had rescued a cat from the local bullies and they had beaten him up. He had walked up to me and put the bundle into my hands.

‘Take him to the doctor,’ he had said and collapsed. I had taken both to the doctor.

‘What is your name?’ he had asked me, sitting up on the hospital bed. He had a beautiful face, chiseled to make people never forget his burning bright eyes.

‘Kaiya,why?’

‘It’s a beautiful name. Kaiya. Don’t go.’

I don’t know why I stayed, only that I never left.

When he starts to speak, the room seems to darken a few shades, leaving only him glowing in the firelight. I think I glow too, connected to him by our interlinked hands, but the audience has eyes only for him.

‘-before I start I need to thank you all for coming. We have all been involved with our own lives, our jobs and ambitions keeping us busy,’ he is saying. He is wearing a black sweater with the long sleeves pushed back in neat folds; in the orange light it looks a warm brown.

‘We formed this group, a year back, to understand the workings of the universe and unravel its secrets. Since then, we have not stepped aside from that goal, we have not forgotten what we pledged our lives to. We move in tandem with nature continuing to answer the questions the world throws at us, endlessly embracing the omens left in the wake of moving time.’ He smiles lightly. The crowd responds with a nod.

‘We are people who believe that the greatest puzzles are those which have the answers within them. These answers are the omens that we consider our beacon.

‘Life is a puzzle, and we know the answer lies within it.’ He stops and moves a step closer to me. No one notices but I know. I clutch his fingers tighter, telling him, wordlessly, to go on.

‘Few days back I realized that we forgot to answer a very crucial thing. If life is a puzzle, what kind is it?’ The crowd shifts, disarmed by his words. They exchange a glance with each other, using the pause to contemplate his words. If words were energy, his were the most powerful. They latched themselves onto the listener, demanding to be heard and believed in.

The eyes return to him, wanting for him to go on.

‘I think I know the answer. Interpretation is subjective, so is rationalization. What I say is only what I think.’ Even as he says it, none of us believes that. Whatever he says is the ultimate truth to our mind. We wouldn’t be here otherwise, watching him with reverence and drinking in his each word.

‘Life is a puzzle; it is a maze. A circular one, that finishes at the end. The thing about a maze is that we only need the knowledge of where the start and the finish are; it isn’t the goal. The goal is the journey through the maze, the way we reach the finish,’ he pauses.

‘This begs the questions, an important one, what is at the center of the circle of life?’

~

When the meeting breaks, the chatter picks up; the group makes their way to the inn below the rented room. He walks into the night, talking me along. We find the lone well behind the inn and sit perched on its wall. A minute passes and he starts to hum, a tune that belongs to no song I know. He sways in rhythm to the breeze and I watch him hypnotized. There is a silence his humming has brought on. When he stops, I ask,

‘Why did we organize that meeting? When all you left with them is another question with no answer?’

He chuckles as if my doubt amuses him.

‘People all over the world are in pursuit of something. Always searching for something -love, happiness, a teacher. But very few search for a journey itself. This group is for such people, those whose objective is the pursuit. And no pursuit can be achieved without knowing where we are going. The omens are for that-’

‘A guiding light,’ I interrupt, nodding. I know this.

‘Yes. We meet to discuss the questions- never the answer -for each person’s omen is unique. Can I tell you something? I believe that omens are cheat codes. A way to solve the mystery of life.’ He glances at the heavens. I do too to be greeted by winking stars. What is about the sky that feels like it holds the answers to every problem?

‘So, what is at the center of circle of life? What is at the finish of the maze? Death?’ I ask. He laughs again and takes my hand to kiss it, letting the lips linger on my wrist.

‘One would think that,’ he says simply. ‘Death is only the end. Not the finish.’ He smiles seeing the next question form in my eyes.

‘What is at the finish?’

‘That is the question. One we must answer if we strive to continue the journey we are on. We must always know where the end and finish is, like in a maze, to know the way.’

It was easy to believe him, he spoke with such confidence. Being with him, following his journey, I’ve discovered parts of him that both amaze me and scare me. He has a streak of insanity that feeds his ideas. But aren’t all great people unstable?

‘We don’t need to be scared of anything,’ he promised me one day, ‘we have the cheat codes,’ he smiled. Cheat codes. Omens. Puzzles and answers.I believed them all.

We were in college when I first saw the fire that was always contained in his eyes release until he was burning all over. He started to find meaning in everything.

‘Why do you think it is raining today?’ he had asked, holding me to him as we stood in the open. The rain drummed around us, drenching us.

‘I don’t know!’

‘Because we need it more than we needed it yesterday.’ It made no sense, but I saw the patterns he was pointing at. Things were happening for a reason.

Standing at the edge of the cliff is a cliché, but he does it in a singular way. His body is slightly arched, poised to challenge the wind that blows against us. He is staring at the ocean below us as if he is its master.

‘Don’t do this,’ I whisper, too scared to speak loud. He holds out his hand for me to take. His fingers that trembled in presence of a large crowd now held my hand with a determined grip.

‘This is the answer,’ he says, his eyes shining with animation, ‘we find out the finish by reaching the end. Imagine! To be the first to learn about the finish and when we come back, we will know the way of our journey! Our search will end!’

‘What if we don’t come back?’

‘We will,’ he says with certainty. ‘The end is the cheat code.’

Covering behind his frame, I ask myself if I truly trust the omens to get me through this. Life is a maze; a maze has the journey, a start, and a finish. But no end.

End. The word finally sinks. This is not the finish. Just the end, just death.

‘We will rise like the phoenix, my love,’ he promises.

‘Okay,’ I say. He smiles and pulls me along.

Together, we jump.